Submission
by Purple Uranium
Summary: [ Companion fic to Forgotten. COMPLETE ] He was all that mattered, and no one else.
1. Part One

REVISED ON 4/25/2004 

**Title: **Submission

**Rating: **PG – 13

**Summary: **[Companion fic to _Forgotten_]All that mattered was her brother, and no one else.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters of Inuyasha.

**Spoilers: **Through _Episode 50: The Face That Doesn't Fade From My Heart_

**Author's Notes:  **Procrastination is my friend. And so are one-shots.  On another note, this is dedicated to Nghi, because my gore will never be as good as hers. Love her people, love her.

**Warnings:** Gore, Sango and Kohaku centric, Kohaku-sufferitis, Sango-sufferitis

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It touched her gently – softly.

It curled around her body and seeped into her pores, causing an oddly bitter warmth to settle within the pit of her being – slowly spreading to the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair – making itself known. She could feel it, just as she could feel a blade upon her skin, cutting into her with precision – a thick lethargy enclosing around her, attempting to encase her within an icy darkness. It was making her feel bitter and cold – causing her to want blood, to see the beautiful crimson dripping from her fingers as it stained her hands, corrupting her heart – making her hate.

And for the briefest moment, it was what she wanted.

She wanted to be able to hate – to be able to kill without a second thought – to allow the adrenaline to explode throughout her body until she was tired and weak, unable to stand on her burning, shaking legs. She wanted to be able to see her blade kiss his flesh, to see a thick crimson liquid seeping into the earth – becoming one with it. Because it was beautiful. Because it would show who was victorious – who was stronger. And she knew that she was stronger.

She knew that she would be able to take his life with a flick of her wrist and watch as he bled, his eyes turning a dull and glassy gray. She would be able to watch as his skin turned clammy and wet – slick with sweat as his lips turned purple and his skin the color of alabaster. She would be able to watch as his body trembled, that same blank look plastered on his face, acting as though he felt nothing. But she knew. 

She knew that he was able to feel everything that touched upon his heart – she knew that he was able to hear to every hurtful and bitter word that she threw at him. And distantly, she was aware that every word cut through his barriers, and it wounded him. It wounded him in a way that only she understood. Because his master's words cut through her barriers. Because his _actions_ wounded her heart in a way that only he knew how.

His eyes, she was always able to see the hint of recognition in them, despite that cold blank look that he always gave her.

She knew that part of him remembered – that part of his past continued to linger within the thick fog of his mind, drowning him in sorrow and confusion. But his master always refused to remove that sorrow, that confusion. Because it hurt him. Because it tortured his mind and his soul. Because his master knew that every time he looked upon his sister part of him wanted to reach out to her, to hold onto her tight and not to let go. But the other half of him… every time she looked upon him, she was able to see the hesitance in his eyes. She was able to see any and all doubt that he felt for her – the emotions of hate he aimed at her for not being able to protect him when he needed it most.

And, truthfully, she hated herself as well.

She hated herself because she wasn't able to keep him close – because she wasn't able to protect him from being so thoroughly tainted, to where his soul was almost black. Because whenever he looked at her, his eyes were always blank and cold and _emotionless_, and it left her angry. It left her angry because she knew that there had to be something that could help him, something she could do to help alleviate the pain in his heart just to make him see. Just to make him remember.

Because… because she felt guilty.

She felt guilty because she wasn't able to keep a tight enough hold on her – because every time she closed her eyes and allowed her dreams to take hold of her she wasn't able to _do_ anything about his predicament. Because she knew that Naraku was causing him pain – was making him suffer through the memories of his past, regardless of how painful they were. Just so he could keep him in control. Just so he could keep her brother running back to him because he was so afraid of what might happen if he did find out. And – and she just wanted to feel his kusarigama sink into her flesh, cold metal meeting hot sticky blood, because she wasn't supposed to feel _guilty._

Sorrow and hate, yes.

But never guilty.

Never guilty because she had been tricked by the man she had learned to hate – by the demon that had killed so many, and felt no remorse.

Because he always looked at her with those cold crimson eyes, sneering at her – laughing at her misfortune and causing the icy bitter waters of reality to come crashing down on her.

_You can't win._

But she kept trying, regardless of what she knew was true.

_He belongs to me._

And she could feel the thick woody tentacle biting into the flesh of her thigh, blood sluggishly flowing from the thick wound as her bones splintered and cracked leaving her immobile and _helpless_ and she _hated_ it.

_My servant. _

Her voice sounded cracked to her ears, her throat tight as she stumbled onto the barren earth, doing her best to ignore to sharp scream that made it past her dry, bleeding lips. She tried her best to ignore the thick purple poisons surrounding her body – teasing her senses as it caused a chill to roll up her spin and her skin to become slick with sweat. Distantly, she could hear him laughing, his deep throaty chuckle becoming poison to her mind as her lungs began to burn and her tongue began to swell until she couldn't speak. Until she couldn't _scream._

And she wanted so badly just to look into his cold dark eyes and tell him how much she hated him and wanted to see his blood staining her blade – her boomerang. She wanted nothing more than to hear his hiss of pain as it cut through bone and muscle and flesh until there was nothing left but a rotting bleeding corpse with tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

She wanted him to feel her hate – to know what it felt like to _burn_ and to _scream_ and to know that there was nothing else left to live for.

She wanted him to taste the bitter bile of defeat rising in his throat as she lifted her silver blade above the hollow his neck, ready to slice through his sickly grey flesh – ready to hear the sickening sounds of her sharp blade colliding with his vertebrae as they cracked and splintered and _shattered._

She wanted to see him _suffer._

And slowly, quietly, she ignored the pain lancing up her leg, she ignored the thin shards of bone cutting through her flesh. She ignored the way her lungs refused to work and the hot tears that blinded her as she shifted her weight onto one leg. She ignored the way her comrades called for her to be careful – to stay _safe_ so that she may live another day.

But she didn't want to live.

She didn't want to be safe.

She just wanted him – her brother – the person who meant the world to her.

And her blood was pounding in her ears as she lifted her boomerang into the air, anger controlling her emotions – giving her strength as the winds tugged at her back, threatening to pull her closer, tainting her heart and her soul. Trying to break her.

But he didn't matter.

All that mattered was her brother, and no one else.

She knew it was cruel – she knew that she was being selfish, greedy, and disrespectful, but as his red eyes gazed hauntingly into hers, daring her to make her next move, she knew that she didn't have time for technicalities. She knew that her comrades had come to the battle, knowing the risks, knowing that they were digging their own graves and – if she died, then he would have no reason to keep her brother. He would take his life and let him forever wade through the icy darkness of the underworld, searching but never being able to find the people he called family. The people who he loved beyond anything else, and he would be lonely and afraid and be forced to be left with nothing but his memories with no one to help him through.

He would go _insane._

And she couldn't let that happen.

She couldn't let him suffer more than he already was.

But he was daring her, and she had no choice but to accept the challenge, her hate and guilt overpowering her needs for common sense, making her forget, that yes, other people were at stake, and other people mattered too. Only, they didn't.

And it was already spinning through air, moving closer and closer to its destination, slicing through dead rotting flesh, scales, and wood. And she could see the thick purple, almost black, poisons rising within the air, threatening to melt her lungs and her flesh until there was nothing left.

And he was smirking, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he reached out with one hand, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain that shot through his arm as her boomerang sliced through the bone of his wrist.

Because she had been taken back in time, her eyes wide as she was bombarded with so many emotions as once… because she could see him lifting his kusarigama once again to take the life of the people he loved.

And she could hear herself screaming his name, struggling to reach him in time, fighting just to keep him safe.

But then time slowed down, and everything was back in place and she could see him move towards his master – her enemy – unsure of what to do, unsure of the feeling of familiarity surging through his body as he locked his emotionless eyes on her.

He was moving for protection and –

It was all wrong.

Choking back on a sob, she rushed forward, ignoring the empty feeling in her heart as the bitter iciness pricked at her skin, threatening to tear it to shreds.

Because she was just so close – she could feel the warmth radiating off of his body as she neared him, and she could feel his slick hot flesh as her fingers dug into his small shoulders, dragging him closer and closer to her.

She could feel the tears spilling from his eyes, feeling hot on her skin.

"Kohaku," her voice trembled, and slowly, she pulled away from him, just so she could look in his eyes once more – just so she could see that hint of recognition as he gazed into her beautiful burgundy eyes.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

And… it hurt. 

It hurt so incredibly – it felt as if her heart was being burned – stepped on, spit on and tossed aside without a second thought. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, freezing two thin trails of sorrow down her cheeks, feeling different and more bitter than his did.

His fingers, they reached out, and distantly, she knew that seeing her cry had sparked some bit of life in him – it made him remember something important to him. Because when she was younger, he would comfort her. He would comfort her because he loved her and he wanted her to feel loved. He comforted her because he knew that no one else would, thinking that she were nothing more than a woman with too many emotions and not the warrior that she was. He knew that they would forget how much strength her small, fragile heart of glass held within its core – they would forget how she would continue to fight regardless of whether or not she would be fighting to her death. They would forget that she never gave up and she never gave in, and he comforted her because of that.

And she desired that more than anything.

She wanted to feel that same warmth spreading to her toes as he wrapped his arms around her body, placing a soft kiss on her cheek and telling her not to worry. Telling her that everything would be all right and that she was the _best_ and better than everyone else. Telling her that he loved her regardless of what mistakes she made and that she was his sister and nothing could ever break the bond that they shared.

She desired it.

And for the briefest moment, she had been able to feel it nestling in the palm of her hand, urging her to close her fingers around it so that it wouldn't slip away – so that she could forever have it wrapped around her finger, becoming it's _master_ and making it _obey._

"Aneue."

The whisper was soft and gentle as it reached her ears, and for a moment, she thought that she had been hallucinating, but as his fingers grazed her cheek, she knew that she wasn't. She knew that even if for that moment, he had grasped a piece of himself – he had remembered – and she was _happy._

"Kohaku?" She asked, leaning forward as dirt, poison, and sweat began to slid into her open wound, thin bone fragments cutting through the elastics of her body suit. 

"I can," he whispered, kneeling in front of her," I know your sorrow."

And he was leaning forward, wrapping his arms around her neck, bringing her into a hug.

And despite the happiness swelling within the pit of her stomach, she could still feel his presence lingering near her, she could still feel his eyes burning into her, tracing the outline of the scar that had been left on her back due to his manipulation and deceit. 

She could feel her brother's arms go slack around her neck. She could feel his quick movements as a cold metal chain wrapped around her neck, blocking off her air supply, causing her fingers to claw at the tender flesh as she began to panic, her own skin getting stuck behind her nails.

She could hear the deep, dark, tainted voice resonating within her mind – laughing at her – telling her that she was weak for feeling such emotions. For being caught so off guard.

_My victory._

She could feel his presence suddenly raining down on her, drowning her in hate, sorrow, and anger, making her skin bubble and blister and bleed as the thick woody tentacles wrapped around her thighs, pressing into her open wound.

She couldn't hear herself scream – she couldn't feel herself breathe.

All she could see were two burning fiery eyes staring into hers – the source of all of her pain and anger – telling her that she lost. Mocking her. Letting her know what a fool she had been.

And she knew.

She knew what a complete and utter fool she had been for believing, she knew what would happen if she came too close to the pair just to hold her brother in her arms again.

She was a fool.

And – her dreams meant nothing.

They didn't _matter._

And as the realization struck her, all she could do was reach down to grasp the hilt of her blade, anger pulsing through her veins, blinding her so completely.

Naraku had shattered her dreams – turned every thing that she once lived for into a nightmare and… there was no escape.

Because no matter what she did, he was always there, breathing down her neck, reminding her of what he held over her.

And as he pressed his lips to her hot, sweaty forehead in the same condescending fashion, she could hear his voice resonating within her mind once more, laughing at her stupidity – at her audacity to think that he would actually give her back the one person that mattered most to her.

"His memories meant nothing to him," Naraku whispered against her feverish skin, smirking cruelly as her body shook with anger and hate, "and you can't force him to remember."

She wanted to say something – anything – to tell him that he was wrong, that she could help him remember despite the fact that he still had control over his soul. Over his mind and his body.

But – his heart.

She still had his heart and –

The chain was tightening around her neck, causing her skin to turn pale and clammy and sweaty and…

"I love you Aneue," Kohaku whispered before he wrapped the cold chain around his knuckles, his brown eyes still emotionless as he watched the life slowly slipping from her body with each passing second, "but I hate you. I hate you so much."

_No._

_NO!_

Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword, anger strengthening her despite her weakness, despite her inability to breathe as the thick wooden tentacle tightened around her thighs, crushing her bones as blood spilled over the marred brown surface.

Because she only had once chance…

She was so close and she only had once chance to make it right, to change _everything._

"I… hate… you," she rasped violently, ignoring the blood that spilled from her mouth and down her chin.

His eyes only glittered maniacally, two words forming on his lips as she unsheathed her katana.

_He's mine._

And then the moon was reflecting off of her blood stained blade as she swung it through the air.

And yet…

It was all _wrong._

Because… it wasn't _him._

And she could see it all, moving in slow motion in front of her eyes as though attempting to mock her – as though attempting to make her lose her cool.

Tearing flesh.

Blood, thick and sticky and crimson, flowing sluggishly onto her armor – making her slick and wet and _angry._

And she cried.

She cried because she knew that there was nothing else she would be able to do – she knew that there was no way she could reverse what had happened. She cried because she wasn't able to notice the way the thick metal slowly unraveled from around her neck, allowing her to breathe once again. She cried because she knew that she had lost him again, after working and fighting so hard just to see his brown eyes rest upon her with a hint of remembrance in them. Because she wanted to be able to feel that familiarity – to be able to hold him in her arms once again and just act like his sister. But… she couldn't. She couldn't get rid of the burning guilt festering within her – stinging her heart as it cut deep wounds into the thin flesh, causing her to bleed – causing tears of blood to run down her face.

Because she didn't have _him._

Because now, Kohaku's memory would be fading into a cold black nothingness and he wouldn't remember her.

She cried because she knew whom he had protected and it wasn't her.

And as she felt his large tentacle tightening around her abdomen, causing her to want to scream and writhe in pain, he pinned her with his cold harsh stare, a tiny smirk quirking his lips up in a condescending fashion. 

And two simple, yet defeating words were all that entered her mind – made it past her hysteria, that caused her to hate him all the more.

_I win._


	2. Part Two

**Author's Notes: **As soon as I got the idea of writing another chapter, I realized that I would need to revise the first part to _Submission_ to allow me to do so. This, though, will be the last installment, before I go onto _Blind Sight_, which is, technically, a sequel to this, but can stand on its own. So think of this lovely two-part story as a Prequel of sorts only… not. Anyhow, onto the story!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters of Inuyasha.

**Mood: **Benevolent. Or, in this case, _not_. 

**Blood Type: **Salt Water

**Warnings:** Gore, Sango-centric, Sango-sufferitis

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Her dreams were her sanctuary.

They always coiled around her, freezing her – burning her, causing a wonderful warmth to spread from the back of her eyes to the tips of her toes, making her skin hot and flushed and _sweaty._ They allowed her to feel anger, happiness, and sorrow. They allowed her to live in fantasies that only her mind could come up with – that only she, as a young woman could fathom. She used to dream of flowers and the wind, and _love._ She would dream about being held – about being accepted, about being strong. She would dream about being wrapped up in the strength of her husband's arms, feeling his body warm against hers as he kissed her tenderly, telling her that he loved her. Approving as her position as a warrior. Loving the fact that she was strong and brave and _honest._ She dreamt of being able to feel. Of being able to look at everyone with happiness in her eyes, regardless of whether or not she was truly angry or mad. She dreamt of having the perfect life with her loving husband and child – getting angry with one another, and yet still loving one another all the same. She dreamt that her dreams would be able to come true – that her fantasies wouldn't be looked down upon and laughed at.

She dreamt of it all.

And it all made her happy.

And, even as a child, she knew that she loved being happy.

She loved to smile and play and _learn_ about things that never made sense to her. She loved to ignore the horrid truth of the world. She loved to ignore the sadness that penetrated her heart whenever someone died, whenever someone was killed in cold blood because of the fact someone else had hated them. 

And, she promised herself that she would never let the blood of another stain her hands, regardless of how much she hated them.

So she used to hide in her dreams, hoping that one day, they would come true. Hoping that every wonderful dream would be able to take precedence in her life, and she could live the way that she wanted to. She hoped that eventually, she would be able to live in peace – for everyone in her life to forget about the horrible ways of the world. To forget that it was their loved ones bathing in their own pools of icy cold blood. To forget that it was their pregnant wives feeling the hot, searing blades of knives penetrating their flesh – icy, frigid eyes filled with hatred pinning them to the spot with fear. She wanted them to be able to forget that they would lose _everyone_ to the demons that crushed their bones in their hands, burned their flesh, fed off the raw skin and hot blood of their bodies. She wanted them to be able to forget the look of glee on their faces as blood dribbled down their enemies chins, thick chunks of raw purple flesh hanging from their sharp teeth. Wanted them to forget the way blood sprayed them as their loved ones were cut in half, their inside littering the floor in a thick pool of blood. She wanted them to forget it all, just as she wanted to forget.

She wanted them to be doused in light – warmed and calmed and _happy_, which was something she would never be. Because she was a warrior, and she had to protect people from those horrible visions that haunted her nightmares. That caused her to writhe and scream in pain as blood poured from the wounds on her body – as old scars reopened and bled pus and blood. As blinding tears spilled down her face from the loss of her family.

She didn't want them to lose the people they loved in the same way she lost her mother.

She didn't want them to see the images that haunted her nightmares – she didn't want them to see her mother clenched in the jaws of a demon, its thick poisonous saliva burning through her flesh, causing it to flow into a thick, disgusting puddle in the floor as she attempted to protect them. Her children. The ones that she loved.

She didn't want them to have to hear the bones of her mother crunching, splintering – piercing her flesh as her body began to expand and then _explode_, leaving her and her brother covered in entrails and blood and… tears. Filled with hate, pain and sorrow.

No.

She didn't want them to see it.

She didn't want anyone to see it.

She just wanted the darkness to take her.

She wanted to feel its icy grip piercing through her flesh, causing her to bleed – causing her to forget everything around her and fade to black. She wanted to feel its painful grip grasping her heart; she wanted to feel its claws sinking into her as it turned her blood to ice, and her heart to stone. She wanted to be able to feel his lips upon her flushed and feverish skin, smirking in satisfaction as she writhed beneath him – screams of pain stretching through the air – shattering whatever calm serenity that had once descended upon the earth. She wanted to be able to bleed. She wanted to be able to cry. She wanted to be able to feel her fingers curl around his neck, pushing into his tender flesh only to leave dark disgusting bruises marring the usually delicate surface. She wanted to be able to whisper his name in hate and loathing – wanted to be able to scream his name as she was cutting through his flesh – releasing the demons inside. She wanted to turn to ice. She wanted to accept it.

She wanted to forget.

She wanted to forget more than anything.

But she knew that she wouldn't.

She wouldn't be able to because it was her blade that had cut through the delicate flesh of his body. It was her hand that held that blade – attempting to make it slice through another. 

Yet it was his control that had caused her to lose him.

It was his _decision_ that had caused her to leave him and now…

She could see his blood, pooling around his lithe body, soaking into his clothes as his skin turned alabaster white and cold. She could see the blood drenching his hair, dripping slowly from its wounds as the poisons seeping from his open wound deteriorated his skin, causing it to fall off in thick, disgusting chunks. She could see the blood flowing away from his body – towards his master – still seeking him, asking for direction.

Seeking the comfort only his master could give him.

And briefly, she could see her mother dying all over again; she could feel her blood dripping from her skin – burning it. 

Burning trails of tears down her face.

And she hated herself for it.

She hated herself because she was supposed to be able to prevent that vision from entering her mind once again. She was supposed to be able to protect the ones she loved from being hurt yet _again._ And she hadn't. Her mother was _dead_. Her father was _dead. _And now – now the blood of her younger brother stained her hands and it was all her _fault._****

Because she didn't protect him.

Because she forgot that Naraku still had _control_ over him and…

She was a _fool._

"Ko_haku_," she whispered as a familiar feeling surged throughout her body, causing her eyes to sting and her throat to clench. She could feel herself slowly sinking, into the depths of darkness, as a feeling of deep, cutting pain curled around her heart, piercing into the thin vein covered flesh of it's surface. Breaking through her barriers. Causing a spike of pain so harsh and painful to rocket throughout her body, her body began to tremble with fierce convulsions and she looked into his fiery red eyes, not realizing that she was leaning towards him – seeking _comfort_.****

And she could sense his confusion – his anger at the fact that she wasn't doing what he wanted, but she didn't _care_. She just needed someone to hang onto – someone to cry on, and he was just so close… just so close. 

And her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as she clung to him, her tears like fire on his skin. For a moment, she could tell that he was shocked as she clung to him, crying at her loss, but then a sick and almost predatory grin spread across his face – his eyes sparkling dangerously and he gripped her shoulders, his fingers sinking into her flesh as poisons seeped from his pores.

She could feel it, slowly seeping into her body as he touched the tips of the scar burned into her back. 

A sign of whom he belonged to.

But the pain of her loss, it was just too much.

Silently, she pulled away, his fingers still connected with her skin, and she watched him. She watched his eyes – the way that they glittered wickedly, daring her to look away. Daring her to try and move away from his grasp.

And she could feel his tentacles slowly loosening, scraping against the ground as they lashed at her brother's lifeless body – breaking it. Trying to consume what he desired most.

_No._

She could feel it, slowly bubbling to the surface, threatening to consume her whole as he attempted to corrupt her. To own her once more. 

She wouldn't let it. She _couldn't_ let it.

Her heart was aching.

And he – he was smiling, realizing that she was on the brink of her control.

Hot.

She was so completely hot, and sweaty, and _cold._

And she could feel it flowing sluggishly down her legs, causing involuntary shivers to run up and down her spine, and his glare became _sharper_ and more _painful._

She couldn't look away.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't _feel._

There was blood, but it was cold and wet and _hot._

"I _hate _you!" She screamed, her fists pounding into his flesh, her eyes glowing a deadly crimson as she tried to make him bleed. Her tears were hot and blinding, blurring her vision as they rolled down her cheeks, stinging her flesh raw. "I _hate_ _YOU!_" She screamed, her voice cracking as she found herself clawing at his face, attempting to bruise every expanse of flesh that was displayed before her.

It hurt.

It just hurt so _much._

"Yo – you took him away from me!" She cried, the anger and hate building inside of her at his sadistic smirk.

The winds blew against her back, blades tearing at her skin, but she didn't care.

Because he was in front of her. Smiling at her pain. Smiling at her loss.

Because it _pleased_ him.

Because he had taken away the only thing that she ever loved. The only thing that he ever truly _owned._

The only thing that didn't belong to her.

And now, it was gone.

And her fingers were sinking into the flesh of his neck, a smile spreading across her face as she watched tiny beads of blood pool at the tips of her fingers. 

His blood was _hot._

He was alive.

He should have been _dead._

And then, his tentacles were wrapping around her wrists, squeezing tightly, causing her bones to crack – causing pain to swell up in her body, causing her to writhe and scream and _plead_ through clenched teeth as tiny bone fragments pierced her skin, and blood began to drip from the tips of her fingers.

"You are mistaken _taijiya_," he whispered against her temple, a wicked smile passing across his face when she shivered from the contact. "It was _you_ who killed him. It is _your _blade that cut the fragment from his back. It is _your_ blade that is stained with his blood. _Your _hands that held that blade. _Remember_ that, _Sango._"

Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her heart was frozen.

Because it wasn't supposed to be like that.

She was supposed to be happy and smiling and chasing butterflies. She was supposed to be watching her family grow and expand, and she was supposed to have _children._ She was supposed to be able to taste her husband on her tongue, and smile whenever her father showed how much he approved of her marriage. She was supposed to see her brother's children running – frolicking, with her own, calling each other _cousins_ and saying _I love you._

She was supposed to have dreams.

Have goals.

She was supposed to –

Get Kohaku _back._

And, he had slipped away from her.

Because of her anger. Because of her hate.

Because she didn't have the part of him that she wanted.

Because she didn't have _all_ of him.****

And yet…

She still felt so empty.

"No," She whispered, feeling the poisons in her body growing as his fingers danced along her spine, burning her scar, causing it pulse and pain to shoot throughout her body. She could feel her nerves, pinching and pulling, trying to get her to scream – to admit to the pain and darkness flowing throughout her body. But she wouldn't. Because she remembered him, and he used to say that she was the _best. _He used to say that she was his sister and he _loved_ her… he loved her so much.

And yet…

She knew that it was wrong.

It was wrong because he didn't love her.

It was wrong because he hated her for being the best; he hated her for being able to wrap her thin, elegant yet callused fingers around his heart, and etch her name in it – telling him that she would forever be part of him. That no matter what, she would _own_ him.

Because she loved him.

Because she was his _sister,_ and she wanted nothing more than for him to be.

Because he was always comforting her and she was _selfish._

"I- you – you took him away from me," she whispered, her hands and body trembling with shock as her skin turned white, sweat dripping from her brow, as blood seeped from her dried cracked lips, "you – you're his _master._ You _owned_ him. And – and he didn't have a choice."

His chuckle resonated throughout her mind, slowly grasping hold of the thin, frayed tendrils of her thoughts, bringing her momentarily out of the darkness and into the light. And he was wrapping around her, his cool, frigid gaze locking with hers as his words spread like a burning fire across her skin – dousing the icy coldness that was threatening to spill through her barriers – threatening to consume her until she submitted to the prickling darkness of oblivion.

"_Remember_ taijiya," his lips hot against her freezing temples, " his heart was always _yours._"

And yet…

"No," she whispered, her body slumping completely as his tentacles wrapped around her lithe form tightly, smiling maliciously as she gave up. As she gave in. "It was yours," and she glanced up at him, a sickening silence causing her ears to ring as the darkness continued to descend upon her. As her lungs burned and her heart ached and she _burned_.

"You _win._"

And, the darkness was settling around her, her throat tight as the icy flames danced across her skin, causing it to become raw, and her body to ache.

And she was drenched in sweat, chills running up and down her spine, but she could feel _him._

She could feel him wrapping his lithe body around hers and comforting her. Telling her that she was the best and that he _loved_ her.

"You'll chase butterflies," he said, brushing her sweaty locks from her face, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, "We'll have children, and they'll be able to say 'I love you'. Because you'll be the best at everything. You _are_ the best at everything… Aneue."

"Kohaku?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his small body, tears streaming down her face. And she wanted to embrace him like this forever. She wanted to know that he would always be there, feeling her warmth slowly seeping into his body. Showing him that she loved him more than anything. Being happy with her. Being sad with her. Living with her. Living in…

Her _shadow._

And his skin was hot and slick and _sweaty_ as he pulled away, his scream piercing through the air, causing her barriers to shatter and her heart to ache.

Because…

There was blood, and it was cold and wet and _hot_.

And he hated her.

She could feel the metal, cold and thick, wrapping around her neck, digging into her flesh – protecting _him_ once again.

She cried.

She cried because she was lonely. Because she would always be lonely. She cried because she wouldn't be able to chase butterflies, because she wouldn't be able to grow old and have children, and know that not too far away he would be there, smiling at his wife. Smiling at his children. Knowing that he had nieces and nephews of his own, and his past wasn't filled pain and sorrow, and he didn't _kill._ She cried because he wasn't supposed to be owned by anyone – she cried because he was his own person and he knew it. She cried because she had given up, because she had given in. She cried because she didn't fight to keep his heart beating just a little bit longer – she cried be she had finally accepted the truth.

She cried because even in death, he wasn't _hers._

_I win._

 "_Remember,_ taijiya," he whispered, running his fingers across the burning scar on her back, "you're _mine._"

_You win._

_Always._****


End file.
